


Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

by serindipitysays



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angsty angsty angst, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, I'm so so sorry, You've been warned, in which we ignore the epilogue but not the final battle of hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21745408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serindipitysays/pseuds/serindipitysays
Summary: Christmas isn’t always filled with peace and joy. Hermione remembers the man she lost. (Originally posted to FFN in 2009. Ported and updated as of 2019.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to the song "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" and realized that although the words are hopefully, the voice singing, male or female, young or old, is nearly always etched with loneliness and melancholy. This stemmed from listening to that song on repeat during Christmas.

It was a melancholy tune that came from the old muggle radio in the corner. Hermione glared at the little box as she hugged her blanket closer to her chest. Weren’t Christmas carols meant to be joyous and festive? Meant to warm your bones against the winter chill? Weren’t they supposed to fill your heart with peace and love in a world that often forgot how to feel? The young woman sighed as she closed her eyes and listened to Frank Sinatra croon over the radio, his voice as pained and lonely as she felt now.

 _Have yourself a merry little Christmas,  
_ _Let your heart be light,  
_ _From now on,  
_ _Our troubles will be out of sight._

Oh, how she wished all of her troubles were out of sight. How she wished she could just join the rest of the world in happiness for the holiday season. But night after night she got no rest, she had no smiles to share with the rest of the celebrating world. As soon as December first hit she had hidden away in her flat and only left when absolutely necessary.

 _Have yourself a merry little Christmas  
_ _Make the Yule-tide gay  
_ _From now on  
_ _Our troubles will be miles away_

It was funny what an accidental meeting under the mistletoe could do. Hermione had felt like a girl from a movie or even one of her mother’s romance novels. A single kiss, meant to be nothing more between two friends, left a burning inside of her that called out for more. The rest of the holiday they’d surreptitiously found ways to meet under the little twig again until neither could deny the gravity tugging them into the same orbit.

Sleep had been easier for Hermione then. In a time so dark and ominous she had finally found a light. Something to keep her warm and lull her to sleep at night as the war raged on. They’d agreed to keep it a secret. In a world so dark what little light remained was precious so they kept it safe, secure just between themselves.

 _Here we are as in olden days  
_ _Happy golden days of yore  
_ _Faithful friends who are dear to us  
_ _Gather near to us once more_

Through letters they stayed in contact while he ran his store and she attended school. The letters were short, afraid of saying too much that could be intercepted. But the words came and with them the first _I miss you._ The first _I need you._ And finally, _I think I love you._

They shared a single dance at Bill and Fleur's wedding. A dance and a night that ended too soon. His hand was in hers, his arm wrapped around her waist, their movements a little too close, a little too improper for a dance between friends. She didn’t care. Not tonight. Not ever again. She could feel his words, just a ghostly caress against her cheek, as he told her he loved her. And then it was over in a flash of light and the sound of screams. And all she had left was the salty taste of tears and the remaining warmth his hand had left in hers.

 _Through the years  
_ _We all will be together  
_ If the Fates allow  
_Hang a shining star upon the highest bough  
_And have yourself A merry little Christmas now.

Hermione held the blanket even tighter around her as she curled deeper into the couch cushions. She tried to remember the feel of his kiss, the sound of his voice, his infectious laughter that had been such a light in dark times. As Sinatra’s voice wound its way through her senses she spared a glance at the small tree she had forced herself to put up in the corner. After wrapping it with twinkling lights she’d only managed to place a single ornament upon its evergreen branches before curling up where she was now on the couch. It was a small bird with silver feathers that glittered softly in the light. Every few moments, if you watched closely enough, you’d see the bird flap its wings, or turn its head as if listening for a whisper on the wind. The beautiful ornament had been waiting for her when she returned from her journey with Harry and Ron. It had been sitting on her bed, just a small simple box and a note from George.

_He asked me to give this to you if he wasn’t here to do it himself. I’m here if you need someone._

Sinatra’s voice faded as the song came to a close. The tears that had been threatening to spill over found release as Hermione covered her face with her hands and wept. He was supposed to be here and a piece of her hated him for that. He’d always been so optimistic, so full of life and love that she never doubted he’d make it through. She needed him now more than ever and he was gone. Just memories of mistletoe, stolen kisses, and a single dance remained. She switched off the radio and began to disentangle herself from the blanket, ready to climb into her bed and spend the rest of the month within its warm embrace.

A knock on her door caused her to jump and reach for her wand. _Old habits die hard_ , she thought as she stayed still, silent. She did not want people around, not now, not for the rest of the month. She’d talk to them in the new year.

“Hermione,” a soft voice called from the other side of the door. “I know you’re in there. Please, let me in.”

She fought to hold the tears back. His voice was so familiar but so, so different. She willed herself to maintain her stone posture. She couldn’t do this, not yet. Stay still, stay silent.

“He wouldn’t have wanted this, ‘Mione. You locking yourself up like this. He’d want you to smile, to laugh, to remember. And I know it’s hard. And I know you’re hurting.” George paused and Hermione could hear the pain in his voice when he finally continued. “I am hurting, too. He was my brother, my best friend, and I don’t know how to go on without him. Please, ‘Mione. If there’s anyone you can talk to it’s me. We shouldn’t be alone at Christmas.”

A piece of her wanted to scream at him to go away, that it was too soon, his face too familiar, that she didn’t need anyone. A different piece of her longed for someone with which to share this pain, a broken and lonely spirit left behind after the war just as she was. She lifted herself from the couch, brushed a shaking hand through her hair, and crossed the room to open the door. Maybe, just maybe, there'd be some Christmas peace to find on the other side.


End file.
